hallucinations in the heat
by Anastasiaash
Summary: A short fiction about a sick England on a certain day he would rather not think about. Perhaps this time around the person he needs will stay. (Complex USuk)
**(I sadly do not own the rights to hetalia, if I did there would be soooooooo many gay ships... Anyhow! On with the show!)**

Maybe perhaps he could just believe for a moment he could stay.

All he could comprehend was the heat. The warm sensation spreading throughout his body and collecting in his head making the outside world seem dreamlike. It seemed like his body was battling weather to be blazing hot or bone wracking cold, the pattern continued on and on where the duvet would be pushed down then quickly tugged back up in haste to find some comfort.

He wanted to scream, to cry, to do something that maybe, just maybe, let this be more bearable. He just wanted to let all his pain be voiced and poured out leaving him tired and to sleep in a numb void.

He gripped tightly onto the pillow moist from the sweat that dripped from his forehead onto the white cotton. His mouth parted slightly but instead of sound coming out a bout of coughing erupted. Something bubbled up in his chest, something hot and sticky, and splattered in his mouth and onto the pillow leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. Glazed eyes cracked open to see crimson stains joined along side faded rusted coloured ones.

There was a flicker of fear that made him sputter incoherent drivel, it was short lived for the exhaustion and sickness made him weary and worn. He know longer cared that it might be a bad thing to be coughing up blood or that he shouldn't be home while this sick. Some part of him might even welcome the probability of death. He might finally let him rest and let go of all this pain.

Why was he in pain?

His head pounded heavily as he worked his feverish brain for answers. He knew he had experienced this before, on several occasions, but it left him wondering, where did this all started.

His head throbbed rhythmically almost like the rain on that day.

Ah yes! That day that started this build up of loneliness, pain, agony for him.

Lord the more he remembered the more the coughing would come, the more the blood would come, blast it he could feel his fever rising with every single minute of that day he dug up from the depths.

 _"You were..." What was it he said? "You were... so big."_

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

No he couldn't face it not like this. He still felt weak, so pitiful, the stirring up of memories would do him no good.

 _The rain cascading down on him like a cold blanket, yet somehow he knew america could still see his tears._

No.

 _"Dammit America." He wiped his running nose on the back of his gloved hand. Screw gentleman behavior. "You can't just..." His voice cracked and gave out on him before he could continue. 'You just can't leave me here alone like this...'_

God, how he wanted to beg and plead for him to come back, just to stay, and never leave him.

Fate played him such a cruel card.

He didn't realize he was sobbing until he was pulled back into his feverish reality. His mouth was moving on its own accord and it felt like it was no longer his.

It wasn't until a few minutes till he realized what he was saying.

"America... Meri." The name tumbled out like ease as his distress grew. What was the point of this? The man was across the pond probably having the time of his life.

That still didn't stop the want from growing more and more, it chewed him up from the inside leaving the intense need to grow and fester.

He could picture those soft blue eyes.

Golden wheat hair.

Calloused hands caressing him softly.

Delirium, as he could see the man he so desperately wanted hovering over him now. He was dressed so casually in khakis and an oversized sweatshirt, it covered and hid his lean muscular frame.

God he wanted to apologize for all the times he called him fat, it was so untrue.

"Am..merica." he slurred trying to pull himself up but there was no use.

"It's okay England I'm here." He whispered lowly.

England swore, as the mirage cupped his face, he could feel the rough hardened skin on his fingers as America stroked his cheek.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and next he felt something damp against his lips. When he dared to open his heavy lids he found a rag now wiping the blood that trickled down the corner of his mouth. He mumbled his thanks and waited for America to do... Anything. Just something that would make him stay just a moment longer. He opened his eyes once more noticing with a pang that somehow the kept closing. He watched in horror as the tall blonde began to walk away from him.

No.

He couldn't leave him again.

 _The image of a man wearing a tattered blue coat walking away from him mixed with what he saw before him._

Leaving, he was leaving.

"Don't leave me!" He blurted deliriously to some past man whom no longer existed. America froze before turning around blue eyes focused on him.

He swallowed trying to wet his dry throat. "Please don... leave... again." He pleaded hoarsely. Though his words were soft and unclear even in his own ears somehow he understood the meaning to them.

England watched with relieved eyes as the American quietly padded back. England found himself watching the man tug back the duvet and crawl into the sickly man's small bed, as though he's done it before dozens of times. The bed creaked against his weight and instantly, England found himself laying partly the younger man.

England rested his head against the man's chest feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest, and the rythmic pattern of his heart.

Some blood still dribble out of his mouth and onto the youths sweater, but the green eyed man saw he made no move to clean it or even push him off. The only thing he did was start running his hands through England's hair in a soothing manner.

He knew this was only temporary, sadly.

He knew by tomorrow he would be well enough to deny what happened here, and Al-Amer-Alfred would know he was well enough to start picking on him for it.

They could deny each others feelings then, but now...

Now he felt no shame in show his weakness in front of him.

Alfred felt no shame showing such warm kind affection to him shamelessly, undeniably.

Tomorrow they would lie about how they hated one another, and jab at their weakness. Though perhaps Maybe they wouldn't deny anything at all.

Then again that was wishful thinking.

 _|woop! I wrote this at around 1:00 am! This is probably crap but I would still like reviews! You don't need to go out of your way to tell me it sucks because I already know... Anywho love yah!|_


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